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Centurion · (02-25-2020)

(Another week, another successful defense of the Hart Title for Centurion.

It has become routine at this point - show up, defend the belt, leave. Centurion has been doing this on every single Warfare since September, and he shows no sign of slowing down.

What happened after his match, though, was hardly routine.

We open up backstage at Warfare. The show is coming to an end, and members of the stage crew and production team are packing up in order to head to the next show. Multiple superstars are walking around, now fully dressed and carrying their luggage.

Down the hallway walks Allison Cortinovis, alongside James Raven. The two are midchat as Allison has a rutsack bag over her shoulder.)

Raven: I just don't know how you do it.

Allison: We just kinda like...scissor.

Raven: ...no. What? Jesus! No! I don't know how you can handle being related to Andy while also being his manager. I'm his stablemate and kind of his boss and I find him to be unbearable.

Allison: The trick is to make sure he doesn't get away with anything. If he's having one of his "I'm going to be a dick" days, you have to deliver it right back to him. You can't expect...ANDY!

(As soon as Allison and Raven turn a corner, they start sprinting down a hallway. Leaving up against the wall, looking worse for wear, is Centurion. The wound on his head from the cut he suffered in the match has been reopened, and the Hart Title is nowhere to be seen. Raven and Allison help Centurion off the ground, and he winces in pain as he stands.)

Allison: What the hell happened?!

Centurion: It was Slater and

. They jumped me and took the belt.

Raven: Son of a bitch. I'll call security.

Centurion: No! Let him go. He took it as a message. Let him think he got one on me.

Raven: That's not just your belt. It's the XWF's. We can't allow everyone to just steal belts when they want them. That's reserved just for Chris Page.

Centurion: It's not about the belt. I'll get it back at Savage, don't worry. In the meantime, let them act like hot shots. And let management know that I want Slater at March Madness. Even if he doesn't give the belt back at Savage, he won't make it past that.

Raven: You have to get past Gilmour first.

(Centurion stares at Raven, and Allison turns her head and does the same. There is a few seconds of silence, with the Cortinovis twins just staring a hole through Raven. Finally, Raven breaks the silence.)

Raven: ... you're right. I don't know why I said that.

Centurion: Slater got the jump on me because he knows Gilmour can't beat me. That's pretty obvious.

(Centurion rubs the his right cheek, which has baby powder on it. He brushes it off and dusts off his hands.)

Centurion: Baby powder. You know, like a pimp. Fucking. Hysterical.

Allison: You've been poking the bear for months now. You had to know they would eventually get to you.

Centurion: Oh, I knew. I'm not even mad. I'm actually glad Slater got himself a set of balls and stepped up to the plate.

(Centurion puts his arms around Raven and Allison, and the two begin to help Centurion down the hallway. Centurion rubs his hand over the cut and looks at the dry blood that has crusted on his forehead.)

Centurion: This was the annihilation that Robbie promised, eh?

Allison: Now's not the time for victory celebrations. You did exactly what you said you were going to do. Let's get you home and start preparing for the next fight.

------All I Wanna Do Is DOH! DOH! DOH!------

UuugggGgggGGHHHHH!!!

Why do I have to do this shit AGAIN?!

Fighting Gilmour was funny the first time. I got to show how much of a waste of space he truly is, and my HOPE was that, by completely discarding him and leaving him looking worse than he did going in - which was hard to do, I might add - it would take Gilmour completely out of title pictures forever. I was hoping the XWF brass would come to their senses and stopping booking this piece of garbage every time they run out of contenders for a title. After all, he's like, 0-500 in his last several title matches. Clearly, I thought, this HAD to be the end of it.

CLEARLY I THOUGHT WRONG!

Somehow, for some reason, Peter Gilmour has a main event title shot on back to back fucking shows. It's... absolutely baffling. In theory, Peter Gilmour could walk away next Warfare as a double champion.

...I mean, that's absolutely NOT going to happen, but the opportunity is there for some strange reason.

Vinnie? Theo? Raven? I don't know who the hell books this shit, but could we please, moving forward, NOT PUT THIS BAG OF BURNING FECES IN EVERY TITLE MATCH?! Fuck, the only reason he's not getting a Universal Title match is because he's fellating Engineer in the Uber from the airport. If it weren't for that, we would be headed for the Engineer Vs Peter Gilmour main event at March Madness that everyone has been clamouring for.

Fucking shoot me.

I can talk shit about pretty much everyone on the roster. Hell, I went into 30 minute diatribes against Robbie Bourbon, and I actually like the guy! But Gilmour? What the hell else can I possibly say about him?

(Centurion stops and holds up a finger. His head ducks down below view of the camera, then raises back up with a book in his hand.

Gilmour - he's awful
Atrocious
Dreadful
Ghastly
Horrendous
Abominable
Grody
Deplorable
Repulsive
Unsightly

(Centurion slams the book shut.)

I had to pull out the thesaurus for that shit!

Gilly was all pissed off lately because I offered Atara a spot in this match. He claims I'm "scared" and him and his buddies keep hyping him up, saying I'm trying to "increase my odds of winning".

I offered for it to be an elimination match, you fucking morons! That actually DECREASES my odds of retaining the title! The reason I did it was to prevent the XWF audience from having to watch another God damn Peter Gilmour singles match. They're done with it. He's a ratings crater. Even the mention of him causes people to turn off their TVs.

But Gilly's friends must really hate him. They not only didn't want another competitor in the match - meaning I get to humiliate him AGAIN one on one - but they also keep talking him up, saying how much of a "threat" he is in an effort to get me to bring my A game. They want me to come after Gilbert with everything I've got, despite the fact that I could beat him while battling a case of SARS at the same time.

But if they want me to beat the piss out of their little

friend, that's fine. I'm willing to do that. Maybe then Slater can move up from luggage handler to coffee provider. Give him a little extra responsibility and allow him to make a little extra coin.

What do you want me to say to you, Gilberg? I could just replay footage of the last time we faced off, and I buried the shit out of you. But that's Mastermind's gimmick, and how much fun would that really be? I could just bring up the fact that you have never and will never beat me, but you don't seem to care.

Therein lies the biggest problem - you don't care about how much you suck. You completely shake it off. In fact, you don't even acknowledge it. If you win, it's the greatest thing to ever happen in pro wrestling. If you lose? Well, that didn't happen, or it was closer than expected, or you ALMOST won, or, or, or...

It's nothing but dick references and excuses for you. No matter how many matches you lose, you still think you're the best wrestler in the world. No matter how many people think you're a laughing stock, you still consider yourself a legend. No matter how many women vomit at the sight of you, you still think you're dick is a gift to ladies everywhere.

Bitch, you pedal in more fake news than Kellyanne Conway. You live in an alternate timeline; either that, or your brain is so fucked that it blocks out every bad memory and replaces it with some fantasy world you created. It would be nice to walk around with my head far up my ass like you do. I wouldn't have to worry about all the strife in the world. I'd never have to battle things like depression or alcoholism. I wouldn't even have to worry about ever losing another match, because I just wouldn't know about any of it! God, how great it must be to be that dumb.

So I'm going to beat you Gil...again. I'm going to beat you like every other time we got in the ring. I'm going to beat you so bad the FCC will try to shut the XWF down. And you're not going to give a shit. You're just going to keep living you life, as stupid as ever, thinking you won all those matches, and that you are among the greatest of all time, and all those bruises and scars you have are from the wild sex parties you have with the hottest celebrities in the world.

They're not, by the way. They're from getting your ass kicked every single week. Some of those scars are from women, but it's not because of sex - it's either because you lost to them in the ring, or they clawed your eyes and face when you tried to stuff them in your trunk.

Peter Gilmour is such a repellent for women that sex workers refuse to take his money. Melania wouldn't fuck you for a green card. Poor women in Calcutta wouldn't fuck you for a sandwich. You grabbed a blow up doll, threw some face paint on her, called her "Rose", and you assume everyone else is so dumb that they would consider you a ladies man.

Gillibrand, the reason you hit people with your dick is because that's as much human contact it gets in a given week. Just slightly slapping your balls against Noah Jackson's eyebrows will make you come more than you have in a month.

When I'm done with you, Gilmeister, I want to be DONE with you. I mean, completely. No more matches. No more title shots. I'll face Vita Valenteen a thousand more times before facing you again. Every time I wrestle you, my clothes get this weird, disgusting film on it. It like, sticks to shit. I have to wash my gear three times before I get that shit off of there, not to mention the smell of cigarettes and Ax Body Spray that lingers in my nose for the next week. You're a gross, disgusting human, and every arena you walk into needs to Has-Mat team to come in after you leave. So, no, I'm fucking done. I'm done with YOU, I'm done with your dumb fucking FACE, and I'm done with you receiving title shots you don't deserve. You should go to the back of the line, but someone gets a chuckle out of you and your incredible lack of self-awareness, so they keep putting you in these matches.

Fine. Whatever. Fight Noah Jackson for the next 20 years. I don't give a shit. Just leave me alone. Take a look at that Hart Title that your buddy Slates has right now. Wave to it. Let it sing you some lullabies. That's as close as you're getting to it. Why else do you think Tristan jumped me and took the belt? It's because he knows you can't win it, and he wanted you to feel better. It's a pity gift.

Slater, take a good, long look at Gilmartin. Listen to your buddy speak to you. Hear what he has to say. Take note of it...then see how he looks and sounds after he meets his...

FINAL FANTASY!!!

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